


Voices

by vanillacoconuts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, I apologise in advance if this is no good, Kinda Fluffy, Kisses, Now resolved, Quite Isle!Sandor, Sad Backstory, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Very brief mention of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillacoconuts/pseuds/vanillacoconuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor and Sansa live in neighbouring apartments, with a shared balcony but there is a divider that blocks their view from one another. After two months of talking and opening up to each other, confessing things they have never told anyone before, they finally decide to meet face to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fucktheon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucktheon/gifts).



> This story was inspired by fucktheon's tumblr post (http://fucktheon.tumblr.com/post/104058639993/i-rly-want-a-boring-modern-au-where-the-two)
> 
> This is also my very first fanfiction and very first story I have ever written...so please go easy on me as I am super nervous!
> 
> And a huge thankyou to Jillypups and Bexmorealli for being my beta's and helping me get this story done! They are so great! 
> 
> Also, this story is set in Australia, just in case you wanted to know before you started reading. Now go picture Sandor with a thick Aussie accent...
> 
> If you want to follow me on tumblr, I am over at vanillacoconuts (http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/)

 

[Picset! ](http://jillypups.tumblr.com/post/104188316358/voices-pictset-vanillacoconuts-bex-morealli#notes)

 

 

 

6:18

 

The amount of times Sansa had looked at the clock the last two hour was beyond her. She had gotten home from University at four-thirty and immediately started to get ready the moment she walked through her door of her apartment, the whole time constantly casting her eyes to the clock above her dresser, worrying that she would take too long and end up being late. _Of all the times I could be late, this is not the day to let that happen_ , Sansa had said that to herself almost as many times as she had looked to the clock. 

 

6:22

 

_Eight more minutes and he will be here. Calm down Sansa, you are stressing too much and will make a fool of yourself if you don't stop._

 

Tonight was the first time Sansa would properly meet Sandor Clegane. They had talked to each other for close to two months now, but had never met face to face. Sandor and Sansa lived in the same apartment building, with the places right next to each other, shared the same balcony, but there was a divider between them. It was meant for privacy, and Sansa appreciated it when she first moved in, but now it felt like a burden, separating her from the man she so desperately wanted to meet, the man whom she very soon would.

 

One morning, about three weeks ago, Sansa had been running late for her class and just as she was running out the door, she caught a glimpse of her neighbour as he was retreating into to his place with the morning paper in his large hand. Since then, all Sansa could think about was Sandor and his tall, heavily muscled frame with long hair hanging below his shoulders. 

 

When they had first started talking Sansa was content in hearing just his voice as it travelled through the wind. She was fine not having a face to put with the voice, but after capturing a look at him from behind, she became curious as to what he looked like from the front. 

 

Getting him to agree to meet had been difficult though. With Sansa going to Uni every morning and working at her job at the book store after, and Sandor being a mechanic on weekends and night-shifts during the week, the only time they got to talk was at sunset, right after she got home and before he left for work. Sandor had finally agreed to meet after she had almost begged him. And so, here she was, waiting for a knock at her door from Sandor, who had asked for the night off just for her. 

 

Sandor was faceless to her. He was a tall, muscle covered man with long, raven coloured hair. He was a voice, a deep rough voice that sent shivers down her spine every time it rolled through the air to her ears. He was a man she'd wanted to meet for weeks now. A man she was going to meet tonight. _In a few minutes, I will finally be able to put a face to this voice I fallen for._

 

It was true, Sansa had developed feelings for him. There was something about him that would make her tummy fill with butterflies. Whether it was the tone of his voice or the way she felt completely open to him, she didn't know. Maybe it was both. Sansa was able to confess any and all things to him, confessions she'd never put into words and voiced to others, not even her family. She told him about her ex-boyfriend, Joffrey, who was perfect in the beginning but turned out to be a manipulative, abusive man. She told him how Joffrey had threatened to ruin her family, how she was afraid of what he would do if she left him. How she would have to cover up the bruises he and his friends left on her pale skin from when she accidentally did something that annoyed him, when she chose to spend time with her family over him, when she refused to sleep with him and never gave in, or even when he was simply bored and found it entertaining to inflict pain upon her. Sansa had only gotten out of that relationship, that _nightmare_ , when her older brother Robb had seen the bruises and told both their parents and Joffrey's parents. 

 

Of all the things Sansa wondered about this man, the colour of his eyes was the most common. She wanted to look into his eyes and see him. After Joffrey, Sansa had become good at reading people, to see who they really were, to see if they would hurt her, and the best way to do that would be to look in their eyes. _The moment I open that door, I will look straight into his eyes_. She had never wanted to ask him what colour they were though, she wanted it to be a surprise for when they finally met.

 

Sansa was so lost in thought about Sandor that she nearly jumped in fright when the knock at the door finally came. Standing up from her bar stool at her kitchen bench, Sansa walked over to the door, all the while trying to calm herself down. As excited as she was for this meeting, she was just as nervous.

 

Grabbing a hold of the handle, Sansa gave a twist and a pull and was met with a large chest covered in a black button down shirt stretched across him, defining all the muscles she knew he had. 

 

Raising her view from his chest, Sansa looked up into Sandor's eyes. _Grey eyes. Beautiful grey eyes._

 

-

 

It was just after Sansa had moved into her apartment when they first talked. It had taken her close to a week to get all her stuff moved in and fully set up where she wanted it. One evening Sansa was sitting out on her balcony where she had surrounded herself in potted plants, relaxing back in her chair taking in the sunset beautiful view, breathing in the fresh air when to her right, on the other side of the divider, there was a loud thump followed by a deep grunt of pain, the sound of glass shattering, ending with a muttered _fuck_.

 

The sounds had startled Sansa out her relaxed state. She had stood up and walked closer to the divider while calling out _hello, are you okay_?

 

”Hi, yeah, I’m fine, just…hit the damn table and a glass fell off, don’t worry about it,” came a low, rumbling voice.

 

And that was it. That was the very first time they talked and it bloomed into a friendship. Every weeknight they would sit at their respective balconies and talk about their days, their lives, slowly getting to know one another and even more slowly opening up to each other.

 

Perhaps it was easier that way, not seeing one another, not feeling judging eyes when confessing everything about themselves. At first it was the simple questions, _how was your day, what do you do for a living, what's your favourite colour_ , to which he cracked up laughing at the question, and between laughs told her how he had never once been asked that in his life _._ Orange was his answer though, for the sunset. All of these questions lead to them becoming closer to the other, eventually making her open up about her family. Sansa told him about her parents, how she’s never seen a love so strong like the one between Ned and Cat, she told him about her brother Robb who would always play pranks on people with their cousin Jon and their neighbour Theon, and nearly every time get caught and get in trouble. How it was Jon who persuaded her to forget Joffrey and go study Sociology at Uni like she had always wanted to. Then there was Arya, her wild younger sister who was constantly sneaking off to see her boyfriend, Gendry, how it got to the point where their parents didn’t even bother grounding her because it would _never_ work. Sansa told Sandor about her two youngest brothers, Bran, who was stuck in a wheel chair after falling out of a tree he used to love to climb, and Rickon, who at this point seemed like he would turn out just as wild as Arya.

 

Sandor took a little while longer to open up compared to her. In the beginning he told her about his job, all the obnoxious pricks who were fussy about their cars, how he hates going to public places, being surrounded by people, but when asked why that is, he swiftly changed the subject. Sansa soon found out he had a great sense of humour, would make her laugh to the point where she could be clutching her stomach, have tears rolling down her cheeks that would start to hurt from smiling so much.

 

One afternoon Sansa had been leaning on the rails of her balcony, watching a storm roll in from the distance, when she started to sing a lullaby her mother sang to her as a child if there was a storm that kept her scared and awake at night. She had not realised that Sandor returned home and was listening to her until she finished and heard a clap from the other side of the divider, with Sandor telling her she sang beautifully. From then on, he called her Little Bird.

 

After Sansa revealed to him what happened with Joffrey, Sandor started talking about his own family. He spoke of how he grew up in Perth, Western Australia, but after his parents and younger sister passed away when he was seventeen, he decided he no longer liked the heat of the place and the memories the city held for him, so he moved to the other side of Australia, down to Tasmania where it was far cooler and he could have a fresh start. He had been there for five months before Sansa moved in next door. When Sansa had asked if he had any other siblings, his voiced had deepened and the air grew thick as he told her of a brother that he had never gotten along with and when Sansa cautiously asked why, she was answered with a mumble of words how he had to get ready for work, followed with the slam of a door, and the next night, an apology of his rude departure. Sansa never asked about his brother again.

 

Their friendship continued until they knew basically everything there was to know about the other. Sansa couldn’t recall anything she had not told him. He knew her better than anyone. All about her except for what she looked like. Which is why she wanted to meet him, to have them both be able to put a face to the voice they knew so well. Why she had nearly begged him to get a night off work, why she had almost screamed in happiness when he _finally_ gave in.

 

-

 

_“What are you afraid of?”_

 

Sansa had asked him that one night when watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon. She had been looking at the orange and pink glow that cast a beautiful light onto the lake that was in front of their building while waiting his reply, and when she got it, she was a little surprised.

 

_“Fire.”_

 

She loved fire, loved toasting marshmallows over it on sticks, loved the warmth it brought on cold winter nights. She didn’t question Sandor though, everyone has their fears.  _Mine is being in a cage,_ she had thought.

 

Now though, Sansa understood his fear. The left side of his face was a twisted mess of burn scars starting from the top of his forehead down to his chin, where it stopped a beard from fully growing. The right side of his face however, Sansa thought was very masculine looking, with his hooked nose, strong jaw line and heavy brow. Years ago Sansa would have turned away in disgust at his scars, but after everything she went through with Joffrey she had learnt that good looks don’t always mean good personality. Joffrey had been handsome, but he was truly a monster.

 

The scars were quite shocking, Sansa had to admit, but then she looked into his eyes again and was suddenly floored by all the memories of their conversations, how she felt when talking to him, all that they had shared and then the scars didn’t matter. They were a part of him and she could easily look past them.

 

Not being able to hold it back anymore, Sansa let a smile appear on her face as she held out her hand to him. Sandor had been taking in her looks just as much as she had, and lifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes, raised his hand and took a hold of hers. He skin was warm but rough, and Sansa never wanted to let him go.

 

“Hello Sandor.”

 

“Hello Little Bird,” he replied, in that deep voice she loved so much. 

 

 


	2. Her Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor's works up the courage to knock on Sansa's door, all the while thinking of the beauty he is about to take out to dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I consider this Sandor close to what he would be like after time on the Quiet Isle, so much more calm and not as full of rage...

 

[Picset :)](http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/post/104184669253/voices-jillypups-bex-morealli)

 

 

 

_Just do it, you idiot._

 

Sandor hesitated as he stood outside Sansa's door, trying to work up the courage to knock. Never in his life had Sandor felt _this_ fucking nervous. It felt like there was a knife twisting in his stomach, his hands shook, and that hasn't happened since Gregor used to terrorize him, when he was younger waiting for the day Gregor would come beating at his door to harm him even more than he already had. What he felt now though was much different. He was about to meet Sansa for the first time face to face. First time looking into the eyes of the voice who knows him better than anyone. And she would see his scars. That was what he was the most anxious about, her reaction to him. For the first time since he was six, Sandor was afraid, _fucking terrified,_ of being rejected. Afraid she would never want to see or talk to him again and that would be it, the end of the best two months he has ever spent with a woman. 

 

His whole body felt tense as he reached his hand out to the wooden door and knocked _one, two, three_ times.

  
  
-

  
  
Sandor remembers the first day they started talking like it was yesterday. He remembers opening the door to his balcony while reading a text message from his boss, not looking where he was going, then suddenly hitting his foot on the table so hard it hurt and sent the glass he had left out there falling to the ground. Then he heard a voice, a voice he swears he will never forget, how soft it was as it floated through the air to him, all the way down to his heart where it has stored itself for months now.

 

Sansa's voice was silvery and light, gentle and kind. After hearing her sing, he decided he could easily fall asleep listening to that lovely, melodic tone of hers. But as much as he loved her voice, it was her hair that was constantly on his mind.

 

It was before they started talking. He was there the day she moved in, but not being a social man he decided to stay in his apartment until all the movers had finished and left. After watching the sunset Sandor had gotten ready for work and was just pulling out from the park in his car when he saw her standing at the boot of her VW Jetta, her back to him as she reached inside to pick up a box. However, he did not actually know it was Sansa until after they started talking and she mentioned what sort of car she drove. Memories of auburn hair, long legs, small waist that flared out into perfect hips and her pale skin had flooded his mind as he had realised it her that he saw that day.

 

As time went on Sandor would occasionally catch small glimpses her hair, when she was obviously standing at the rails of her balcony and close to the divider. When the wind blew her hair would fly with it, and that is when it started to remind him of fire, when it would blow wild and flaming in the breeze. Sometimes he was tempted to lean over the rails to look to her, but he never did because he did not want to scare the shit out of her by showing his face. Sandor knew what he looked like; he knew he was hideous. Every night when he was doing his job, there were always plenty of people who turned away from his scars, and it hurt every time. What made it even worse was knowing he would actually be a decent looking guy without the scars. Once, before he met Sansa, Sandor had stood in front of his mirror in his towel after a shower, looking at his face. Lifting one hand to the left side, he covered his scars and took in the good. For a moment he had imagined what his life would be like if he didn't have the scars, and how he could have lived life then. Alone and ugly, was not what flashed through his mind. Letting his hand fall away, Sandor had quickly walked away from the bathroom trying his hardest not to go back in there and throw his fist to the mirror.

 

Talking with Sansa helped him though. When he would sit watching the sunset with her, telling each other about their days, and eventually their lives, Sandor started to feel different. Sansa almost made him forget about his scars, forget Gregor, almost made him believe he had a chance at being happy. These emotions she stirred in him confused the absolute fuck out of him at first, wondering how the hell some woman he couldn't even see had such an effect on him, but then he realized that was it. It was because she could not see him and accepted him without turning away, would talk to him like no other ever had. _When I am with her, I forget who I am._ It was a thought that had occurred to him numerous times, because it was true.

 

Sandor dreamed of her too. Although he could never decide if they were good dreams or nightmares. They were good because she would be there with him, with her long legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her neck, her moans reaching his ears and he felt like he was in heaven, but then they turned into nightmares as he would look up, try to look to her face, but he never could. When he would raise his head her fiery hair turned to flame and he would wake up covered in sweat, fighting for breath, hand clutching above his heart as it threatened to beat out of his chest.

 

Sandor had almost felt like packing all his belongings up and moving back to Perth the day she asked if they could meet. Sansa was constantly on his mind, was dying to meet her, but never made a move to do so in fear she would run; he did not want to ruin it. So when Sansa asked, Sandor had become still as stone as he attempted to give a coherent response. He had mumbled out to her he wouldn’t be able to get time off, that his boss was a tight ass, but after a week of her practically begging him to at least try to ask for a night off so they could go for dinner, Sandor told himself to not be a coward any longer, and caved.

 

-

 

Sandor felt as if all the air in his lungs has been stolen from him. Sansa is beautiful. If he ever thought he would never forget her hair, he is wrong, because when she opens the door and he can see her fully he knows he is gone, knows he is in deep, deep shit, as there is no way he will be able to get over her. Sandor takes in her long legs he knew about, her thin waist he wishes to wrap his hands around, up to her hair he has not been able to stop thinking about. Now that he is closer to her, he has a chance to really look at her hair and Sandor decides his dreams are not nightmares, but good dreams he will happily enter again, because her hair is not fire, it is the sunset, _she_ is the sunset, the beautiful colours that form in the sky as the sun lowers to the earth, _but I do not ever want to watch her disappear beyond the horizon and leave me alone at night, I want her with me._

 

It is then that he notices her lips, lovely pink lips that look as soft as her voice. Never before has Sandor wanted to kiss someone’s lips as much as he wants to kiss hers. To feel the place where all the words she has told him escaped into the world and landed in his heart. And then she smiles and he thinks he could die a happy man.

 

Sandor looks to her eyes, and now he feels like someone has ripped his chest open and is clawing at his heart to rip it out, _she’s so fucking beautiful it hurts_. Sansa looks straight into his eyes, and he almost feels like crying because he cannot, for once in his life since he was a child, see any traces fear or disgust. He thinks he could love her for that alone. But it is not that that has such an impact on him, it is the colour of her eyes that has this strange effect on his heart that he has never felt before. They are like the ocean and he wants to drown in them. Sandor despises fire and is now in love with water.

 

Sansa lifts her hand to the air and he meets her with his, engulfing her small hand with his large one and is mesmerized at the difference between the two; her hand is soft, smooth, pale and _beautiful_ , while his are tan and rough, and he feels he does not belong here with her, is close to telling her he cannot do this, but then she squeezes his hand and all previous thoughts about fleeing vanish from his mind.

 

When she speaks it is like he is back on his balcony hearing her voice for the first time, he’s falling all over again. She smiles even brighter when he calls her Little Bird and Sandor cannot, just cannot help himself, not matter how hard he tries, but he lets his lips turn into a grin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: dinner and ACTUAL DIALOGUE! 
> 
> And thankyou to everyone who left a comment or a kudos! I really appreciate it! It makes me feel so much better about my writing :)


	3. His Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa enjoy dinner together and Sansa learns about an important part of Sandor's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of important information before you start: I have changed Sandor’s job in chapter one from a bodyguard/bouncer to a mechanic…I have my reasons…which you will soon find out about. With that said... enjoy.

 

[ Picset!  ](http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/post/106860642453/voices-latest-update-jillypups-bex-morealli)

 

 

 

Walking beside Sandor as they make their way out to his car, Sansa cannot stop thinking about his smile. She had no idea why she liked it so much, but the moment the grin spread across his face Sansa had immediately decided she liked his smile a lot and became determined to make him do it numerous more times.

 

Glancing towards Sandor she notices that he has a slight limp on his right side that takes away from what would be a calm, smooth stride. Sandor never mentioned anything that would have caused him to limp, and now Sansa wonders if she will ever find out. _I hope I do._

 

Opening the door to Sandor’s older version of a Jeep Patriot, Sansa recalls the time he told her about this car. How he bought it when it was fit for junk from an old man who no longer had use for it, how he used his skills as a mechanic to fix it up until it ran like new. She knew by the tone of his voice that he was proud of what he had achieved with the car, when others told him it was just a pile of scrap metal, how he proved them wrong in the end.

 

The drive to the restaurant is a silent one, but not uncomfortable. Sansa has no idea where Sandor is taking her and so she enjoys the view of the lake as they drive along side of it, with this giant of a man next to her almost constantly on her mind, and she has to fight off a smile.

 

When they arrive at the restaurant car park Sansa lets out a gasp. She did not know about this place, _Rockwall Bar and Grill_ , but it is situated on the opposite side of the lake from where their home building is and Sansa takes a moment to think about it, looking at their shared balcony she can just barely see in the distance. _That balcony is where this all started, where Sandor entered my life by hitting his foot and my asking if he was okay._

 

When she turns to Sandor she blushes, for he is starring straight at her, as her hair flies in the soft afternoon wind. As they walk towards the entry of the restaurant, Sandor surprises her as he, without a word grabs and holds her hand in his warm one. Looking up at him he already has his eyes on her and the corner of his mouth is turned up in a small smile. Sansa does not even bother fighting off a smile then.

 

They get a seat by the window closest to the lake, and despite this being nothing more than a dinner between two friends, Sansa finds the setting incredibly romantic, especially knowing that soon the sun will be setting, and for the first time they will be truly be watching it _together._

 

“What would you like to drink?” Sandor’s voice pulls Sansa out of her thoughts and she turns to him, being startled by the intensity of his grey eyes watching her. He is staring at her as if she is the only person around, and she finds she cannot look away.

 

A waiter comes to take their food order, and after ordering drinks, Sandor a red wine and her an apple cider, Sansa decides to mention to him she noticed the limp to his right leg. “May I ask what happened?”

 

Sandor is quiet for a moment, looking like he does not want to answer and she is this close to saying it doesn’t matter, that he does not need to talk about it if he does not wish to, but then he raises his gaze from his wine to her and in a low voice, as if he wants to be loud enough for her ears only, he tells her about a part of his life she never knew.

 

“You know my family were all dead by the time I was seventeen, so I was on my own after that. I didn’t have the best life growing up. But that’s a conversation for another time, or another dinner. Anyway, as I told you a while ago, I moved here because I wanted to be away from Perth and the memories it held for me. I couldn’t be there any longer. So I packed up the few things I had, took all the money that was left for me, and came here. Life didn’t get better after that though, in fact, it fucking became worse.” Sandor pauses there and seems like he is struggling with the right words to use. After a brief moment he continues. “I started drinking all the time, trying to forget everything and just feel numb. It worked for a while too, I was bloody emotionless. But after a while of drinking that much I just started to get angry. Angry at being alone, angry at anyone who looked away from my face,” Sandor’s eyes go dark during his speech, and he whispers out the rest of his sentence, “angry at myself.”

 

Sansa feels terrible for asking now, for the mood around them is thick and heavy and she feels like she’s upset him terribly. “Sandor, you don’t have to continue if you don’t want to.”

 

Sandor shakes his head at her and continues anyway, “On my twenty-fourth birthday I decided to go out drinking with some guys I would frequent the bars around town with. I barely remember the night. What I do remember comes to me in flashes, almost like photographs. I had been drinking like I always did, then the next thing I remember is being outside the bar, on my motorbike, about to have a street race with a man I didn’t even know. I think I must have challenged him, not realising how much of a shit idea it was in my drunken state, how fucking stupid it was. I don’t even remember losing control of bike, just remember waking up in hospital a few days later and being told that I was in an accident and was lucky to be alive. My leg had been caught between my bike and the building I crashed into, my thigh getting the worst of the damage. It hasn’t been the same since and I’ve been told I’ll likely have the limp the rest of my life. Which I don’t actually mind if I'm honest about it. It’s a reminder of how my life used to be, a reminder to me that I can never let myself get so low again. I hardly ever drink these days, I’m nowhere near as angry, I can control my temper, and if I dislike someone these days I’ll simply tell them to bugger off. I’ve got a good job at the mechanics, made a few good mates there too. And I met you.”

 

The last of his words were spoken in a soft tone, opposite to how he had been speaking about his drinking and his accident. Sansa’s heart had started to pound a little harder when he said it, but she is too busy thinking on all he had told her to worry about it. She feels sad for him, for him to have lived such a life, but then she also feels proud of him, for moving on and creating a better life for himself. She doubts she would have met him if he had not changed, or if she did, she doubts she would have stuck around to get to know the man he used to be.

 

Sansa reaches across the table and lays her hand atop of his. “I think you are very strong to have gone through all of that and come out the other side a better man. And I’m glad you met me. Despite having known each other only a short time, you do mean a lot to me, Sandor.”

 

“And you to me, Little Bird,” Sandor replies with his eyes on her while twisting his hand so they can interlace their fingers together.

 

Soon their food arrives, Sansa with a roasted pumpkin risotto with baby peas and Persian feta and Sandor a pork loin rack with a spiced plum cider sauce. They keep the conversation light after Sandor’s confession and they watch the sun as it goes down, but it is not nearly as good a view as it is from their balcony. They talk about their jobs, Sansa’s Uni life, the friends they have. Sandor tells her about his friends Bronn and Drogo at work, how Bronn is one of the nicest guys he has ever met, is very sarcastic, but in the end always honest, how Drogo, a man extremely close to the side of Sandor, is married to a woman with a personality as big as her husbands, though she is actually as short as Sansa. Sansa tells him about her best friend Margaery, who has always been there for her, who was always trying to set Sansa up with boys she met until Sansa refused to meet any more, how Margie, as people call her, is constantly getting people together, but cannot seem to find someone for herself. And although Sandor jokes about setting her up with Bronn, Sansa seriously considers it.

 

Sansa is amazed how easy it is to talk to him, how even after two months of sharing what she thought was everything, there is still so much to talk about.

 

Throughout the night she had noticed that Sandor would often look at her hair, and after becoming very self-conscious that maybe she had somehow messed it up, she asks him about it.

 

Sandor smirks and chuckles at her question, “There’s nothing wrong with your hair, it’s just the colour reminds me of the sunset and I, you know,” Sandor looks down, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck before he looks back to her, “I like the sunset, it’s beautiful.” Sansa can’t remember the last time she blushed this much, for she knows he is calling her beautiful. Sandor smiles at her again when he sees her reaction, he looks proud of himself.

 

She wants to kiss him, she realises as she looks at his smile, at his lips. The corner of his mouth is burnt as well but she finds she does not care, wants to kiss him anyway, wants to know if his kiss would make her heart beat as fast as when he speaks to her in his low voice, or when he looks at her so deeply she feels lost in his stare.

 

“I like your smile,” Sansa blurts it out before she can help herself, and immediately Sansa feels like covering her mouth with her hands because she feels like an idiot for saying something so random, and Sandor, for his part, looks shocked at her outburst but then suddenly grins, looks at her lips, sees her blush even more, and grins even wider. _This is so embarrassing, my cheeks are probably the same colour as my hair. Not that I think he’d mind, he likes my hair…_

 

The night carries on much the same, with casual talk, more smiles, more staring at each other’s mouths or eyes, much more blushing on Sansa’s part. She even thinks she sees a small pink tinge to Sandor’s cheeks when she moves and accidentally brushes her leg against his.

 

For dessert Sansa orders them her favourite, lemon cakes, which luckily happen to be on the menu. Sandor says he has never tried them, but she can tell by the way he greedily finishes his second one that he likes it them too. Sansa is happy he likes something she loves.

 

After paying for their dinner, which Sandor insisted he pay for himself, they leave the restaurant and head back home. Once again the ride is a comfortable silence, but both of them have small smiles upon their faces.

 

When they arrive back at their apartment building, it is Sansa this time who takes Sandor’s hand, and together they walk up the stairs. As they reach her door, she is about to voice to Sandor how much she enjoyed herself, how much she would love to spend more time with him, when he, without any warning, turns her so her back is pressed against the wall and surrounds her with his arms, placing them on either side of her head, and she feel captured, as if she would not be able to get away from him if she tried. _Not that I want to. And not that I will._

 

Sandor lowers his head to her, all the while staring at her mouth. Sansa knows exactly what he is doing, and knows she wants it as much as he does, so she lifts her hands to his chest, and she can _finally_ feel how hard his muscles are, and leans forward to meet his lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou everyone for the lovely comments last chapter.
> 
> And sorry for the wait this chapter took to come out, but I hope you all liked it :)


	4. Her Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More kisses and night time talks on the balcony.

 

[Picset! ](http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/post/107565769438/voices-chapter-4-bex-morealli-and-jillypups-if)

 

 

 

_Oceans._

 

_Sweet voices and laughter._

 

_Blushes._

 

_Sunsets._

 

_Soft skin._

 

These words all run through Sandor’s mind as he moves his lips against Sansa’s. He thinks about her eyes that are like oceans he never wants to look away from, her voice that he could listen to for a lifetime, and her laughter that he thought sounded like the most beautiful song, the pretty pink in her cheeks that appears nearly every time she looks at him, the sunsets that they watch together, how he thought nothing compared to its beauty until he met Sansa. He is amazed at the effect she has on him, never in his life has he thought about a women like he is thinking of Sansa. He used to be a hard man, but he feels like he is turning soft, his head filling with words and thoughts only about her.

 

The slow slide of her tongue along his makes him remember when he first held her hand earlier that evening, how he could not ever remember touching something so soft. Sandor now runs his hands up and down her body, one hand resting on her lower back, holding her to him, the on her cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb over it. He cannot stop touching her. After two months of talking, he finally has her in his arms and he never wants to let her go. _Her lips, as soft and sweet as her voice._

 

He thinks about love, too. He is probably crazy for thinking of it so soon, but it is so obviously there, right here in his heart that has not had anyone to love for years. Not since he was seventeen when his mother, his last remaining family, died of what he could only believe was a broken heart, so broken she could not even take care of him, for his face was a reminder of all that she had lost. He hopes she is at peace where she is now. 

 

_Love._

 

He has never been in love, never even come close to it, but as he stands here with Sansa in his arms, with his lips and tongue on her neck, hearing her moan and tighten her arms that are now around his body, pressing her fingers into the muscle of his back, Sandor thinks he may very well be in love with Sansa.

 

She pulls away from his mouth after a while and the look in her eyes surprises Sandor, to see the desire and want so clearly there, when no woman has _ever_ looked at him like that. It makes him want to kiss her again, but Sansa stops him with her hands against his chest as he moves to lower his head once more. 

 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to move too fast. I feel like if I don’t stop kissing you now I’ll end up taking you into my room so we can continue. But no, not yet, not tonight.” 

 

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You set the pace, and I’ll follow you.”

 

Sansa rises up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

 

She does end up inviting him in, not to her bed, but to sit on her balcony and enjoy the night sky and the warm summer air. Sandor hopes that the next time the sun sets they will watch it together, on which balcony he doesn’t care, so long as he can see her.

 

When Sansa’s hair lightly brushes against his arm from the breeze, he is reminded of his dreams, the ones where her hair would turn to fire. As he lifts up a lock of her silky hair and rubs it between his fingers, it is then that he realises he has never told her why he is afraid of fire. He has avoided mentioning because he knew it would have him revealing his scars, he did not want that, but now sitting here with her he wants to tell her.

 

“Sansa,” he says to her. The smiles she gives him is all the courage he needs to let her know about this part of his life to her. “Do you remember when you asked about my brother?”

 

She nods her head in reply to his question, and as he speaks, she sits beside him and listens, eventually holding his hand in hers to her chest when he tells her how after his father and younger sister were killed in a car accident when he was five, Sandor’s life took a turn for the worst. His older brother Gregor had always been bloody reckless, did his own thing, but once it was only their mother left, Gregor listened to no one. His mother Rose had no control over him, and when Sandor’s sixth birthday came around, fourteen year old Gregor had become jealous of the attention their mother payed to Sandor, so jealous that when Rose had simply given Sandor a kiss on the cheek he had dragged Sandor to the fire in the lounge room, pressed Sandor’s face to the flames, all the while ignoring their mothers pleas for him to stop. When Gregor pulled Sandor away from the fire, he had pushed him towards Rose, yelling _Why don’t you kiss Sandor now, huh, kiss his fucking pretty face!_

 

When he reached twenty four, Gregor had been shot dead by father of a young girl he brutally assaulted, had shot him right through the heart. With his brother gone Sandor had thought it would be better, but when he noticed Rose had not changed, he knew he was wrong. A year later, Rose had taken her own life. Sandor knew it was from a broken heart, and could not blame her for what she did, but he was on his own then, seventeen with no family left.

 

He tells Sansa that after he woke up in hospital from his accident he met his doctor, a man named Elder Brother, who decided to help Sandor get his life back on track.

 

“My father was a mechanic, and even though I was only five when he passed away, I had always been interested in what he did. But after everything that happened with Gregor I never perused the career, not until I met Elder Brother that is. He helped me get an apprenticeship, and eventually I became a professional. I now work in a 24 hour mechanic’s, working nights and weekends, as you know already.”

 

Sandor looked out to the night sky when he spoke, and when he looks back at Sansa he sees her cheeks are wet. Her eyes shine even brighter in the moon light and he cannot help but think _S_ _he’s so fucking beautiful!_ Pulling her to his chest he kisses away her tears as she tells him how sorry she is for all that happened.

 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine now, things are going well.”

 

“Good. How about we go on another date, dinner, I mean dinner,” she says with a blush and a smile on her face. He is glad she has changed the subject, the talk of his past bringing up bad memories is not how he wants to spend his time with Sansa.

 

“Dinner sounds good, but I think I like the idea of a date better,” Sandor grins at her when she gasps, but then it turns into a laugh.

 

“A date it is.” Sansa bites her lip then and glances up to him through her eyelashes, says “Would you like to come back here tomorrow evening, to my balcony, so we can watch the sunset together?”

 

“Or I could stay the night and we could watch the sunrise,” Sandor winks and laughs at her when the blush on her cheeks becomes even brighter.

 

Sansa leans up towards him, places a quick kiss against his mouth, then whispers in his ear, “One day, I promise.” _Best promise someone has ever made me._

 

After making plans for a date next week, they realise how late it is and decide to go bed, their separate beds. Giving Sansa one more kiss, he bids her goodnight and walks the short distance back to his own apartment.

 

Staring out his window as he lays in bed later that night, Sandor cannot stop thinking about her; she has invaded his every thought these days, but what surprises him is that he does not care. If there is one person who he would happily have on his mind constantly, is it Sansa, her sunset hair and her big blue eyes that make Sandor feel lost every time he sees them.

 

He falls asleep with the memory of Sansa’s kisses, what it felt like to finally have her in his arms, and the words of her promise flowing through his mind. _One day, I promise._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've turned Sandor into a romantic, love-sick fool. I'm sorry!


	5. His Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Sandor’s arms under the sun, Sansa reflects on the past month she has spent with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff everywhere!

 

[Picset :)](http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/post/108298167698/voices-chapter-5-bex-morealli-jillypups)

 

 

 

Resting her head against Sandor's chest as they lay on the grass by the lake below their apartments, Sansa cannot recall a time where she was ever this happy. 

 

For the last month they have spent much more time with each other. Sandor has changed his work schedule from night shift to day, so when Sansa gets home Sandor does too, and they are now able to spend their evenings together. Going out on dates, to the movies, midnight swims in the lake, home cooked meals in Sansa's apartment, late night kisses that go on and on until she has to put a stop to it, knowing that if it went on any longer she would tear his clothes off. 

 

Sansa _wants_ him, she really does, but she wants to spend more time with Sandor before they sleep together. A month of knowing each other is too soon in Sansa's opinion, especially after what happened with Joffrey. She trusts Sandor completely but there is a tiny part of her that fears that that is the only thing Sandor wants of her, because in the end that was basically the only reason Joffrey forced her to stay with him, with the hopes that she would one day let him into her bed. It is a fear she wants to overcome, and this lovely, languid time with Sandor is very much helping. 

 

It is the sweep of Sandor's hand along her back that brings her out of her thoughts, and she raises her head to look at him. His view rests towards the sky, taking in the white fluffy clouds that cover the blue, only letting in small, warm rays of sunshine through. It is a beautiful sight. 

 

Sansa is in love with him. She has known it for a while now. It is the way she feels around him, the way he is not only constantly in her thoughts during the day, but in her dreams as well, the way her heart beats a little faster when she catches his eye, how it feels like it is going to burst out of her chest when he runs his fingers down her cheek before he kisses her, that is how she knows. She wonders if he can hear the beating of her heart in those moments, wonders if his has the same reaction, if it beats in the same way. 

 

Sandor usually works Saturday', but being exactly three months since they first talked he has taken the day off to spend it with her. They have just finished a picnic lunch and have been laying on a blanket in each other’s arms looking up to the sky for the past twenty or so minutes. They have not said a word in that time, have been enjoying the natural sounds of birds chirping and splashing in the water, the rustle of leaves as the wind blows through the trees. But now, after staying in the one position Sansa's body is starting to feel stiff. Sitting up, she stretches out her arms and legs. Sandor stays where he is, only changing the direction of his gaze from the sky to her, and smiles. 

 

She has learnt that he does not like to smile, does not like the way his scars stretch tight across his face from the action, but after the reassurance from Sansa that she has no problem with it, has accepted his scars as part of him and hardly even sees them anymore when she looks at him, he started to, slowly, smile more often. She loves his smile, remembers telling him so during their first dinner.

 

Sansa smiles back and leans over to kiss him, moving her whole body over him to straddle his middle as he deepens the kiss with the slide of his tongue into her mouth. 

 

When she releases his lips and rests her forehead against his, she feels his hands moving along her sides and back in a gentle touch. _Always so gentle with me._

 

His grey eyes are already on her when she opens hers, looking at her in a way Joffrey never looked her at her, in a way _no one_ has ever looked at her, and she is suddenly flooded with feelings of complete and utter trust, all her fears disappearing. She wonders how he can make that happen with only a single look. _Love, that's how he does it. He is looking at me with love, like he is a man in love._

 

Her heart is beating louder and faster than ever before, and she gives Sandor another kiss to the lips. Then one to his scars. This time when she lifts her head his eyes are still closed, but there is a peaceful look to his expression.

 

 _I love you_ , she thinks. 

 

The way his eyes snap open makes her question if she actually did only think it, and it is when he asks her _What did you just say_ that she knows she _did_ accidentally said it out loud. She doesn't care. Because what she said is true. So she tells him again. Holding his face between her hands, she tells him the truth. 

 

"I said I love you. No, actually that's wrong, I'm _in love_ with you." Sansa doesn't love him like she loves lemon cakes, or the way she loves her family, or the way she loves the sunset, no, it is so much more than that. She is madly in love with him. 

 

Sansa almost flies backwards off his lap from the force of his movement when he suddenly sits up, and Sansa, who was laying above him, is forced to sit up too. He kisses her so fiercely, with so much passion, kisses her as if it is the last time he will ever get to, and she _loves_ it, loves his kisses, the way he kisses her.

 

The look in his eyes when he pulls away from her is so vulnerable, and she knows why. He has told her that he has never been with a woman he loved or even cared about, never had more than drunken one night stands. And now, hearing her say what she said, she _knows_ he is feeling lost and laid bare, wondering how she can love him, because the life he has lived before her, the life with his scars has made love seem impossible for him. He has told her as much.

 

“Damn Little Bird, I don’t- how can- ah, fuck it, I’m in love with you too,” he says and picks up her hand in his and brings it to his mouth, and the next words he says are in a whisper, with a small smile upon his lips, “I think I’ve been in love with you since I first held your hand in mine.” Sandor kisses her finger tips, but he does not get a chance to do it for long, because the way he is gazing in to her eyes, watching her the same way he watches the sunset, Sansa all but leaps on him, even if she is already on his lap, knocking him to the ground so he is on his back with her on top once more.

 

They kiss for what feels like an eternity to Sansa, only stopping for confessions of love or to catch their breath before they are back to kissing again.

 

Sandor eventually rolls them over so it is he who above her. Sansa wraps both her arms and legs around his large frame, never wanting to let him go.

 

She remembers the night of their first kiss, when she felt captured between his arms and body and the wall behind her, and now she is feeling like she has him captured, and how wonderful that feeling is, to know that he is hers, that she has him _and_ his love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to ‘My Only Crime’ by Highasakite repeatedly while writing this whole chapter, so you can blame the fluffy, lovey-dovey stuff from that. It wasn’t really the words that got me, more the tune and the way the song made me feel. I just felt it suited this chapter…you should listen to it, it’s good! 
> 
> Only one more chapter left!


	6. Her Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around 2 months later, Sansa and Sandor enjoy their morning together after a special night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a while, I became very busy trying to organise some things in real life. Anyway, this is the last chapter, well it’s more of a short-ish epilogue, hope you all enjoy it :)

 

[Picset! :)](http://vanillacoconuts.tumblr.com/post/110028505348/voices-chapter-6-the-final-one-thanks)

 

 

 

It is the bright rays of early morning sunshine through his window that wakes him. The golden yellow light flashing across his face from the sunrise as fresh air flies through the open door to his balcony.

 

Sandor has never slept so well in his life, he doesn’t want to be awake, instead wants to go back to the peaceful slumber he was in with Sansa’s bare chest against his back and her arm thrown over his middle. He doesn’t even remember moving in to this position, they fell asleep with Sandor on his back and Sansa’s head resting on his chest. He was the one holding her, but now in the morning it _her_ who is holding _him_.

 

Slow and careful not to wake her, Sandor rolls around to face Sansa and pulls her naked body closer to him. There is a soft little whimper that comes from her and Sandor is flooded with memories from the night before.

 

Nearly three weeks before, Sansa moved into Sandor’s apartment. They spent all their spare time together so they thought there was no point in having the two apartments if there was only one being used at a time. And every night they would kiss until they were breathless and fell asleep. Except last night, they didn’t stop.

 

-

 

With the stars above their heads in the dark of the night, they lie entwined in each other’s arms, their lips connected as Sandor’s fingers find their way to her silken hair and down to the hem of her shirt. Slowly, they help each other undress, wanting to take their time. Sansa’s skin is soft and feels fragile and Sandor is trying to be gentle, afraid to cause her harm. But Sansa’s kisses are strong and demanding; she is less and less the delicate creature with every grip and every touch.

 

Tangled in their sheets, sighs and whimpers and moans are the only sounds that can be heard, every other sound drowning out as his attention is all on the woman beneath him. Sansa’s hands run down his body, drawing patterns into Sandor’s back and arms and neck.

 

They melt into each other, bodies pressed impossibly close, hands at hips and neck and shoulders as they move together, every thrust having them cry out against their lips as they kiss. With Sansa’s legs and arms wrapped around his body, as if she wants to consume him, Sandor kisses her neck, runs a hand up and down her body as he continues moving inside her, climbing higher and higher to that feeling they are chasing, until they are both overcome with their pleasure.

 

Afterwards, he pulls Sansa to his side where she rests with her head on his chest, whispering their love before they finally fall asleep, exhausted from their desire.

 

-

 

When Sansa finally wakes, he watches as she stretches out her arms and arches her back, the latter again bringing memories of the night before to his mind. He reaches for her again and pulls her close until their bodies are flush against each other, until they are as close as they can get. Leaning forward, her soft lips welcome his kiss. After a moment she rests her head on his chest, her fingers softly travelling over his bicep in a feather-light touch, sending shivers up and down his spine. He is close to falling asleep once more when she speaks, whispering into his skin as if they are sharing secrets, even though it is just the two of them here.

 

“I never told you this, but before we met face to face I once saw you from behind. I had just come home and you were walking through your door.” She is silent for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to continue, but she lifts her head up and he looks into her blue eyes as she does continue, almost shy in the way she speaks. “I always wondered what it would be like to be surrounded by your strong arms.” She ends her sentence with a small smile on her face.

 

Sandor cannot help but smile in return as he says, “And now you know.”

 

She tightens her are arms around his then, and in a satisfied tone replies, “And now I know.”

 

He tells her how he saw her once as well, how he would dream of her hair, dream of them together, but could never see her face, even though he so desperately wanted to. She laughs then, telling him that they don’t need to dream about it anymore, because it’s real.

 

 _No more dreams, this is real._ It is a thought he continues to think throughout the day. Sometimes he thinks he is actually dreaming, to have someone like Sansa in his life seems so unbelievable. But no, she is real, this is real. He had once given up on love and Sansa changed all of that.

 

When they both arrive home that evening, they have dinner before they settle into the chairs on their balcony to watch the sunset, as they have been doing every night since they met. Holding her hand in his, they watch the light blue sky slowly turn to pinks and yellows until they are staring out into the night, stars covering the sky, moonlight shining down on to the lake below them, illuminating the water, making it glow.

 

Hand in hand they walk back inside and get ready for bed, hours later falling asleep after being a tangle of limbs under the sheets again. Before he follows her into sleep, he runs his fingers across her cheek wondering how the hell it is possible to love someone as much as he loves Sansa.

 

 _No more dreams. This is real._  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who left reviews and kudos! I really do appreciate it all because it made me feel so much better about writing! It was scary posting my first story, but you all made it better! So really, thank you! I hope everyone enjoyed reading it! :D
> 
> AND A HUGE THANK YOU TO BEX AND JIL FOR HELPING ME THROUGH THIS WHOLE STORY!!! YOU ARE THE BEST!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little story of mine! :)
> 
> At the moment it will be about 6 chapter's long.


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